


Like you

by NairobiWonders



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Joanlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9296288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders
Summary: Post episode 5.11.I added a chapter that's the same as the first. Nothing really different - rewrote the same fic in a more normal-for-me style - more dialogue and stage directions, a few less ellipses - but I kept some of the original as well. Not sure which works better, if at all. Still learning the writing process. Totally self-indulgent … apologies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oblique references to Joan's kidnapping in season two and the effect it had on both of them. Post 5.11 sort of fix. 
> 
> Beware - I've thrown out all rules of punctuation and grammar; tenses wander ... plus I tried to use as many ellipses as humanely possible ...

She knew him ... better than anyone. She tolerated his idiosyncrasies and respected their carefully set boundaries. 

He in turn knew her ... could sense when the rules of their relationship became constricting ... could see it in the tightening of her face ... the suffocating quiet that settled in around her.... then walls would be scaled and guarded borders crossed to get to her. 

Wordless.... in some dark corner of the brownstone... he'd find her ... and wait. He would stand a little too close ... the back of his hand might graze hers ... an errant finger perhaps would break formation and dare to touch its counterpart .... lingering ... for a second, maybe two... and then .... wait ....

Eventually she would respond ... sometimes talk was needed, sometimes just his presence would suffice ... but more often than not she needed the warmth of a touch ... a hand held ... an embrace ... to remind her she was not alone .... and for her he would ... 

 

Tonight she sensed his need. The suffocating silence had settled over him. She sought him out.... the roof ... cold ... dark except for the points of light that outlined the bridge and the life beyond.... 

She wrapped her cardigan a little closer and moved to stand beside him. Motionless. Wordless ... 

Her hand grazed his ... she waited ....

His exhaled breath materialized before him in the cold...

"She looked like you." The words were soft but laden with emotion. His hand bumped hers and fingers sought each other. 

She opened up, just a sliver, for him. "Yes. ... But it's okay ..."

He interrupted her, "No, it is not. ..." He struggled for the words. "Things ..... dark ... things came back to me .... it must be a hundred times worse for you."

The sliver cracked further .... something within writhed and pushed, crying for release but she held it in its place. "I'm fine ...That's in the past ... we've moved on ....." 

"Stop it." Anger flickered behind his words. He stared at her ... and waited. 

The intensity of his scrutiny began to crumble the stone wall she had constructed round the memories. Her heart raced. She could feel the horror clawing to get out ... could no longer pretend it wasn't there ...

She lunged towards him hoping his body could stop the hemorrhage.

His arms encircled her and held on .... he felt the spasms of her pain and pulled her in deeper ... together they stood solid.... pressed against each other ... the shared and singular memories, the guilt, the pain ... all loosened their hold and dissipated ..... until they could once more draw a clear breath.

A cold wind swept across the rooftop. She felt his shiver. 

Pulling herself away, she spoke into his chest, "Come on .... we need hot tea and a warm fire ..." 

"Hmm ..." he followed.


	2. Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the same fic in a more normal-for-me style - more dialogue and stage directions - but kept some of the original as well. Not sure which works better, if at all. Still learning the writing process. Totally self-indulgent … apologies.

The case was over. The victim saved. The culprit captured. Yet Sherlock was still in a mood. She’d observed but hadn’t approached … up until now. Rules of behavior existed between them; lines they didn’t cross unless necessary. But Sherlock and Joan knew each other well enough to breach the walls when they sensed their partner required it. He had come to her side in the past and now she was coming to his.

Joan found him on the roof. Dressed in sweats that usually passed for sleepwear, he stood scanning the lights of the bridge and the City beyond. She wrapped her cardigan tighter against her and walked up to him. He didn’t acknowledge her presence. She said nothing, stood motionless, close beside him and waited.

The far off sounds of the city’s traffic came whispering past them on the wind. The back of her hand grazed the back of his, almost a caress, and then pulled back.

Sherlock sighed, his breath materializing before him in the cold. His fingers moved to find hers, finger tips barely interlaced.

“She looked like you.” His words were as soft as the wind-carried city noise but were laden with emotion.

Joan’s heart leapt. She had noted the victim’s appearance, the physical similarity, but buried it, hoping to avoid the messy emotions it might bring up. Her fingers tightened around his. “Yes. … But she’s alright …. it’s okay …”

He interrupted her, “No, it is not. …” He struggled for the words. “I placed her in danger much the way I placed you …”

“You saved her. She is free now because you intervened …” Joan tried not to focus on the plight of the young woman. He needed to see everything would be fine. She was fine. There was nothing there … nothing to fear …. nothing …. She could feel the panic attempting to ooze through the weaker parts of her resolve.

Sherlock tugged at her hand, his fingers adjusting as if to make sure she wouldn’t leave. “Things ….. dark … things came back to me …. Try as I might, I kept re-living your kidnapping …. the abject fear, the sense of helplessness…” He closed his eyes and tried to shake off the memory. Sherlock turned to her, eyes full of empathy, “I’m sorry …. I know it is a hundred times more difficult for you …”

The barriers that kept those memories in check cracked further …. something within her writhed and pushed, crying for release but Joan held it in its place. “I’m fine …That’s in the past … we’ve moved on …..”

“Stop it!” Anger flickered across his face. His eyes bore into her.

The intensity of his scrutiny began to crumble the stone wall she had constructed round the memories. Her heart raced. She could feel the horror clawing its way out … could no longer pretend it wasn’t there … Joan blinked away the tears, swallowed back the thing that pushed at her throat and produced a thin smile that trembled on her lips.

His heart shattered for her, “Joan.” His whisper pierced her; broke her open.

She lunged towards him hoping his body could stop the hemorrhage.

His arms gripped her tightly to him and held on …. he felt the spasms of her pain and pulled her in deeper … together they stood solid…. pressed against each other … the shared and singular memories, the guilt, the pain … all loosened their hold, spilling around them … The strength of the emotions slowly dissipated until they could once more draw a clear breath.

A cold wind swept across the rooftop. She felt his body shiver against hers.

Joan pulled herself away, and looked up at him. With the back of her hand, she wiped the tears from his cheek, and tried to clear emotion from her voice. "Come on …. we need hot tea and a warm fire …“

His arms still protectively around her shoulders, Sherlock took a breath and nodded.

The cold night wind once more swirled around the rooftop as they made their way inside.


End file.
